


simple & sweet

by goldpeak



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Comfort, Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 01:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldpeak/pseuds/goldpeak
Summary: a collection of steve/bucky one-shots, featuring a range of topics and genres. some excerpts:“That’s okay,” Steve murmurs, lips brushing against the scar tissue near his shoulder. Bucky trembles. “I’ll prove it to you.”---“Buck-,” he begins, but then his boy looks up at him with tears pooled in his perfect blue eyes and he just pulls him into a tight hug. “It’s okay.”open to requests/ideas.





	1. hey pretty boy

The sunlight filtering through the blinds is what rouses Bucky. His thoughts, foggy with sleep, elude him as he lays there, tangled in his soft white linens. He feels light, weightless, almost. Free. He hasn’t felt like that in, oh…he couldn’t place a timestamp on that. More years than some people have been alive, at least.

 

He slowly blinks his eyes open, and they land on the tousled mess of honey-golden hair just below his chin. Softly, he brings a hand up to run through the locks.

 

Steve’s hair is soft and warm, and smells of Bucky’s own shampoo. It reminds Bucky of summer, for some reason- but the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes that it does make sense.

 

Still in a sleep-heavy, drowsy haze, he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of Steve’s head. A little whine comes from the boy below him, who snuggles closer to Bucky.

 

“Sorry,” Bucky murmurs. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“You didn’t,” Steve whispers, hands coming up to press at Bucky’s sides. His lithe fingers ghost over Bucky’s ribs, leaving a trail of stardust tingles in their wake.

 

Somewhere outside, beyond their windows- probably on the balcony- some birds are singing. The two boys fall silent, and Bucky knows that Steve is listening to the birds that he loves, but Bucky himself is listening to the steady rhythm of Steve’s heartbeat.

 

Bucky kicks the linens off his legs, the cool white comforter pooling near the foot of the bed. Steve whines at the loss of warmth and slots his legs in with Bucky’s, an action that makes Bucky’s heart speed up. Steve’s hand comes to rest in the groove of Bucky’s hip, near the waistband of the sweatpants that he’s wearing.

 

Steve’s fingers tap a nondescript rhythm, sparks skittering over Bucky’s skin with every beat. The latter pulls Steve even closer, sighing as he feels the soft fabric of Steve’s t-shirt brush against his own bare chest.

 

“What’s the time?” Steve mumbles, lips pressed to Bucky’s collarbone.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” he slurs, sloppily kissing Steve’s temple. “Don’t wanna get up.”

 

“Me neither,” Steve concedes.

 

Sometime later, Bucky removes his metal hand from where it had been settled in Steve’s hair to grab his phone off of the nightstand. It’s only 10 AM. He finds himself guilty of wasting the morning, wants to go for a run, maybe…but one look down at the sleepy boy curled into him and he abandons that thought.

 

At the movement, Steve’s eyes flutter open and Bucky puts his phone down in favor of combing his metal fingers through the boy’s hair once more.

 

“Hey, pretty boy,” Bucky drawls, his loving eyes locked onto Steve’s.

 

Steve ducks his head bashfully, exhaling. Warm breath skates across Bucky’s chest and the latter shivers imperceptibly.

 

“Lucky to have you,” Bucky continues, enjoying Steve’s reaction. His fingers twirl around locks of silky hair. “Don’t deserve you.”

 

“You do,” Steve protests, pushing against his chest weakly. “You deserve everything and more, Buck.”

 

A ghost of a smile flits across the latter’s face before he resolves to focus back on Steve. “Love your eyes,” he says, cupping Steve’s jaw and locking his gaze with his. “Love your-.”

 

He’s cut off by Steve’s soft, perfect lips closing over his own.  A sound of surprise claws its way from his throat and then he’s kissing back, one hand winding into Steve’s hair and the other still on his jaw. His stubble brushes against Steve’s soft skin and it’s lovely and too perfect. All of it.

 

Steve breaks away from Bucky’s lips, eyelashes fluttering as he trails kisses down Bucky’s chin, jaw, to his neck.

 

Bucky takes a stuttering breath. “Steve-,” he whines, clenching his fist as the aforementioned nibbles on the sensitive skin in the crook of his neck.

 

“Baby,” Steve says, in-between rolling Bucky’s skin between his teeth and pressing the flat of his tongue to the same skin to soothe it. “When are you going to start believing me, when I say that you do deserve everything you have, and more?”

 

Bucky’s chest goes tight and he swallows heavily. Steve presses a few delicate kisses to his collarbone, his fingers toying with the rim of Bucky’s sweatpants.

 

“I don’t know,” he answers, voice raw. Honest.

 

“That’s okay,” Steve murmurs, lips brushing against the scar tissue near his shoulder. Bucky trembles. “I’ll prove it to you.”

 

Steve’s not sure what he expects next, but a warm teardrop landing on him was not it.

 

Immediately he looks up, brows creased in concern and then he’s sitting in Bucky’s lap, knees on either side of his hips as he cups the latter’s chin and brushes tears away with his thumbs.

 

“Sorry, baby, so sorry.” He stumbles over his own words. “Sorry, shh. It’s okay.”

 

“Not your fault, Stevie,” Bucky says, voice thick like honey. “Love you so damn much, you know?”

 

“I know,” he soothes, kissing Bucky’s forehead and leaning forward so their chests are pressed together.

 

Cheeks red as a rose, Bucky hides his embarrassment by keeping his eyes on a patch of skin exposed by Steve’s t-shirt riding up. He offhandedly thinks that this is the only time in a long time that he’s cried from something other than pain. Something good. Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests? ideas? thoughts? compliments? friendly criticism? i'd love to hear it all. drop a comment !


	2. mint and basil

Summer comes early that year. It leaves Steve curled up on the chaise by the big window in the bedroom that he and Bucky share as the latter is off at work.

 

Steve works all day in the sun, sketchbook in his lap and pencil in his hand. He draws anything he can see, like the bird pecking seeds from the birdfeeder that he set up for Bucky after he realized how much he loved watching the robins in the morning.

 

He draws the neighbor’s cat as it lounges on the terrace opposite theirs, his soft white fur simply sparkling in the sun.

 

He sketches the old architecture of the brick apartment building to the north. The textures of the bricks, the clean sky above it dotted with wispy clouds, the ivy hanging from the rooftop garden.

 

Some days, he pulls out his tablet and works on commissions. He sketches someone’s niece, someone’s dog. Sends off the sketches for approval, gets back some input, fixes them and sends them off again.

 

He doesn’t go anywhere but the coffee shop down the street, these days. He throws on nice clothes for the hell of it, jeans and a button-up and his fancy glasses.

 

The serum had fixed his eyes oh-so-long-ago, but doing so much work on his tablet was slowly destroying them again.

 

He sips the sickly-sweet coffee from Starbucks that Bucky would never confess to loving, but he always buys an extra to take home for the latter because he _does_. He puts it in the fridge and microwaves it later to press into Bucky’s hands as soon as he gets home.

 

When Bucky is home, Steve’s all over him. Chin on his shoulder as the former cooks them dinner. Lays between his legs as the two watch whatever crappy movie is on late at night. Traces art on his back as the two lay in bed, scarcely clothed, after a late night. Runs his hands through Bucky’s hair as the two shower, shampoo running down his back.

 

On one weekend, Bucky brings home a bag full of clearance-rack herbs and shoves them into Steve’s arms. “They’re not all dead yet,” Bucky says before gently kissing his boyfriend, right there in the doorway in his dirty work clothes and in full view of the neighbors down the hallway. “Try and grow ‘em?”

 

Steve’s too stunned to do anything but kiss back and curl his fingers into Bucky’s jacket.

 

Steve does as Bucky had intended, and spends the next day putting the dying herbs in a wooden planter on the kitchen windowsill. He pulls off the dead leaves and waters them, and when they all look a little perkier a few hours later he doesn’t stop smiling for hours.

 

A week later, Steve makes Bucky an omelet with basil from the windowsill planter. He can taste it when Bucky kisses him, which in hindsight, Steve realizes, is kind of gross.

 

When Stark calls him a week later to say, “Sorry, Cap. Duty calls. Your vacation is up.” Steve tries to not be too disappointed. He is, anyway.

 

That night he lays his Captain America uniform out on their bed and is staring so intently at it that he doesn’t hear Bucky come home- doesn’t know he’s even in their apartment until hands skate around his side and breath tickles the back of his neck.

 

The next morning, he’s out of bed before Bucky is for the first time in almost a month and he pretends it hurts less than it does.

 

“It’ll be a quick mission,” Tony promises, and it is. Steve comes home that night, albeit late.

 

 But Bucky’s awake, sat in the living room sprawled over the couch. A black-and-white movie is rolling on the TV, and two glasses sit on the coffee table.

 

Steve kneels down beside Bucky’s head, pushes his hair back with his bloodied hand and kisses his forehead. Bucky gestures sleepily to the one full glass on the coffee table and says, “Mint lemonade. Made it for you.”

 

It’s refreshing and Steve downs the whole thing in one go. When he kisses Bucky, the other says he can taste it on his tongue.

 

Steve has a few days of nothing. He goes back to sketching all day, tending to his herbs, watching the neighbor’s cat. Visits the coffee shop, the library. Brings coffee home for Bucky. Makes real mint chocolate chip ice cream with the sweet mint in his planter.

 

Bucky brings him home a sad-looking pot of roses that night. “Found them in the streets.”

 

Steve stays up late tucking them into a new pot with fresh soil and Bucky doesn’t tell Steve how warm he felt watching his boyfriend speak soothing words to a plant at 10 in the evening.

 

Bucky’s not sure how he can love someone as much as he loves Steve.

 

The next time Stark pulls Steve out to a mission, he’s gone for three hellish days. Bucky spends his evenings sipping his expensive scotch and dreaming of Steve’s hands on his body. When the latter returns, his dreams are relived in real-time.

 

That’s their new norm. Bucky works at the nursery and brings Steve plants home ever so often. Steve spends his off-days cooking, tending to his plants, and drawing. Bucky knows he’s never been happier. Steve swears he hasn’t, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment your thoughts? <3


	3. a bloody christmas

Bucky gets into his first fist-fight of the 21st century on Christmas Eve. Steve had sent him to go get hot chocolate before the stores closed- an excuse so Steve could wrap his present in secret.

 

When he returns, he raps on their door with bloody knuckles and a brown paper bag fisted in his other hand.

 

Steve’s smile fades away as quickly as a startled bird flies away as soon as he sees the blood dripping down Bucky’s face.

 

“They were talking about you,” is all he says, eyes downcast and voice cold. “Said dumb shit, Stevie. Real stupid stuff.”

 

“Buck-,” he begins, but then his boy looks up at him with tears pooled in his perfect blue eyes and he just pulls him into a tight hug. “It’s okay.”

 

“I didn’t use my arm,” Bucky says, sometime later. Steve has him sitting on the kitchen counter. The hot chocolate cools on the table, Christmas music playing in the background. “I didn’t. Swear.”

 

“I believe you, Buck.”

 

Steve wipes Bucky’s knuckles with an alcohol swab and kisses them when Bucky winces.

 

“Broke your finger,” he whispers, gently brushing the pad of his thumb over Bucky’s swollen index finger.

 

Bucky makes a noncommittal sound and Steve tapes his finger up, using his middle finger as a splint.

 

Steve stands up taller, stepping between Bucky’s legs and crowding him against the cabinets behind him. He puts a hand on his jaw and tilts it towards him, not liking the look of the split close to the point of his chin.

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs as he pinches the skin together to press butterfly bandages over it. “Sorry, baby.”

 

“My fault. I deserve it.”

 

Steve just shakes his head. “Put ice on that black eye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> penny for your thoughts?
> 
> i'm a sucker for whump!bucky so get ready


	4. lightning flashes, thunder booms

The fact that storms bother Bucky so much is unsurprising to Steve, considering everything.

 

The two are laying on the couch, watching a silly documentary when the first flash of lightning occurs. Bucky cries out, a wrecked sound escaping his throat before he dashes to their bedroom.

 

Steve goes after him, not expecting to see his Bucky curled in the corner, trembling. When Steve kneels down and puts a hand on his knee, Bucky flinches so hard he slams his head into the wall and cries out.

 

Steve retracts his hand and soothes him, murmuring sweet nothings as he settles down, cross-legged, on the floor.

 

“You’re okay,” he says. “It’s just me. You and me. You’re okay. I promise, Buck. Have I ever lied?”

 

Bucky looks up, locks his blue eyes onto Steve’s and then surges forward into his arms, pushing Steve flat onto the floor with the force. “No,” he murmurs into Steve’s shoulder.

 

Steve holds him tight, whispers into his ear and presses kisses to the side of his head until Bucky stops shaking. Then, he coaxes the latter into their bed where he kisses him until he falls asleep.

 

He doesn’t miss the way that Bucky cries out every time thunder rocks the picture frames hanging on the walls. He himself doesn’t sleep a wink; he’s too busy stroking Bucky’s back and combing his hand through his hair.

 

He feels his own heart shatter when lightning illuminates their room, Bucky startles awake and cries out, with tears falling from his sky-blue eyes.

 

“It’s okay baby, I’m right here,” Steve sits up, puts his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “I’ve got you, Buck. Relax. You’re okay. I’m sorry.”

 

Bucky lays down flat on Steve’s chest, head pillowed on his shoulder. His hair tickles Steve’s nose. He keeps his hands on Bucky’s back, his right leg hooked over Bucky’s. He pets his back, drawing words and shapes.

 

Bucky presses a kiss to the tip of his shoulder when Steve finishes tracing “I Love You” on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ideas? requests? hmm


	5. at the seams

It’s not surprising to Steve that when Bucky is back in civilian life, he still wants to revert to some old habits. One of them being boxing.

 

He buys a punching bag to hang in the spare room and he falls asleep to the rhythm of Bucky’s fists hitting it that night. Bucky’s still panting when he lays down beside Steve.

 

Steve’s making eggs the next morning, a Sunday, when he hears the chain begin to creak. He instantly knows where Bucky is. He smiles to himself as he flips the omelet over, sprinkling in another pinch of homegrown basil.

 

Bucky strides into the kitchen with a smile on his face for the first time in a few weeks. Steve watches him peel the tape off his knuckles and dump it in the trash before flexing his hands. The skin under the tape is red and irritated and despite the attempt to protect his knuckles, a few crack and bleed.

 

Steve washes his hands off as Bucky sits at the table silently, the only sound his heaving breaths. Steve buys Bucky a pair of boxing gloves and is pleased to see him use them that same night.

 

One night, they’re sprawled on the couch together. Steve sits upright, legs resting on the coffee table. Bucky leans into his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and knees tucked up to his chest. Steve’s reading a book and Bucky is watching the low-budget romcom on the TV.

 

“You know,” Bucky starts, as the romcom goes to a commercial break. “When I hit the bag, I imagine it’s Pierce.”

 

Steve just tightens his arms around Bucky, and buries his nose in the dark mop of hair. He buys Bucky another bag, a different kind, later that night off of Amazon.

 

Two weeks later, Bucky hits the bag so hard that the seam pops…just like his knuckle. He bites down on a kitchen rag as Steve reduces his finger dislocation to a murmured tone of reassurances from his boyfriend.

 

That night, he’s laying flat on Steve’s chest with his nose at the nape of his neck. His metal hand fists in the soft fabric of Steve’s t-shirt, while the flesh one rests alongside him, still throbbing from the injury.

 

“I don’t think I need to hit the bags anymore,” he says. “I think I’ve hit everyone that I need to, now.”

 

“Okay,” Steve murmurs, combing Bucky’s hair from his face and pressing a butterfly-light kiss to his creased forehead- as if he could smooth out the lines of worry. “That’s good.”

 

“It is,” Bucky murmurs, tightening his grip on Steve’s shirt. “Huh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weeps please give me ideas


	6. suit jacket

Bucky thinks it’s a little stupid. A Christmas party, really? At Stark Industries?

 

Steve reminds him that it’s just a publicity thing, and Bucky begrudgingly agrees to go as long as Steve promises to stick with him the whole night. Being around Tony, and the others, is still hard for Bucky.

 

“Of course,” Steve promises, earnestly. His warm hand envelops Bucky’s metal one. “No problem.”

 

So, Bucky needs a formal outfit. Steve does, too. They both live in their uniforms, and a t-shirt and sweats, otherwise. A trip to the mall on a Sunday night solves that issue.

 

Steve browses the clearance racks, looking for a “nice, but not pretentious” shirt – his words!

 

Bucky pulls out a silver and gold striped polo with a sharp navy collar and Steve purses his lips as he considers it. Then, Bucky flips it around and he sees the massive bow sewn into the back.

 

“You’re my present,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve hides his blush as he pushes the shirt away with a laugh.

 

Steve finds a nice silver button-down and a black tie with silver snowflake detailing on it. He has a jacket, and slacks, at home from a press thing a while ago, so he checks out and then steers Bucky right to the racks that’ll have his size.

 

Bucky protests feebly when Steve pushes him into the dressing room with three shirts and a few jackets.

 

He stops protesting when he comes out, dressed in the first pair, and Steve’s jaw goes a little slack. Fresh white shirt, blue and silver tie, silver jacket. Sharp, clean, sleek, _hot_.

 

Steve steps in real close, puts his hands on the lapels of the suit jacket…fists his hands in the material, and yanks Bucky in for a kiss right there in the dressing room.

 

“I guess I’ll get these,” Bucky says, when he pulls away for air, before shoving Steve into the dressing room stall and pulling the door shut behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> requests? ideas? thoughts? compliments? friendly criticism? i'd love to hear it all. drop a comment <3


End file.
